John Robert “Bobby” Parker passed away on Friday, April 26, 2024. He was 76 years old.
John was born in Nashville on June 21, 1947. He was the 11th child out of 12 and lived in Nashville for most of his life. In 2009 John began selling The Contributor, which is where I met him when I started working for the paper in 2011. John said that selling the paper kept him alive and gave him something to do. He enjoyed meeting people and making them smile, something we have in common.
The first time I met John Parker was at a vendor paper release meeting. He called me over in his gruff voice to help him fill out a survey we were asking all of the vendors to fill out. This survey, like so many in homeless service spaces, was full of deeply personal information used to collect data for things like grant funding that allow us to continue helping people at the low cost of dehumanizing the people we serve, but I digress. I started filling out the survey with John, who questioned every question, but answered them nonetheless. Eventually, and I don’t remember the question this happened on, he broke into a huge laugh and I realized he didn’t care that I was asking him a million personal questions, because he was used to answering them already. He had done it most of his life. So when he started laughing, I started laughing and I made it a point to talk to him every week at these meetings.
Those conversations quickly turned into a friendship, and on my birthday that year he bought a cake, balanced it on his rollator, got on the bus and brought it to the vendor office for me and we had a birthday party. I’ve never been so stunned at an act of care and generosity than that. He was so good at showing love.
John took me to Jefferson Street Missionary Baptist Church, the church he attended from childhood. I had the honor of hearing him sing a solo in the choir. He had a soft but powerful voice that filled the auditorium. We ate a potluck lunch after it was over and he introduced me to the church family he loved so much. John’s faith was important to him, and while we didn’t always see eye to eye on religion, we both respected the other’s perspective. He was so good at being faithful.
When I left The Contributor in 2017 we were, as John described it, “kin.” I reassured him that we would still see each other even if we didn’t work together anymore. This turned into me picking him up for Saturday breakfasts at Shoneys. We’d hit the buffet, sometimes just us and other times with Contributor volunteers. We’d talk about our lives, our dreams, our hopes, the hard times, the good times and we’d both throw in jokes for good measure. He was always making me laugh.
During the pandemic things got hard. We were both concerned with his health and wanted to be as safe as possible. I’d bring him groceries or pick up his prescriptions. We’d talk on the phone when he got lonely. I did what I could, but I never felt like it was enough. John never made me feel like that though. He appreciated everything and always understood my limitations. He was always kind to me.
Throughout my time knowing John, he was in and out of hospitals and doctors offices. I think he would want me to mention his appreciation for the staff at Tennessee Oncology where he received treatment for at least a decade. He especially admired Dr. Doss.
Eventually his health declined to the point of needing to have both of his legs amputated. He got a nice motorized wheelchair through his insurance (his Mercedes, as he called it). He moved into a rehab facility that we both knew he would stay in until he died, though we never talked about it that bluntly. I think it was hard for us both. I know it was hard for me. He frequently reminded me of all the people I had in my life — ones that he had introduced me to and ones that I had found on my own — who would be with me when he no longer would be able to. I thanked him and told him I hoped that wouldn’t happen any time soon because I wanted more time. He reminded me the Lord was in charge of timing, and I said, “Amen.” We both laughed.
The last time I saw John, he came to The Contributor office to bring me lunch, something he did frequently when he was more mobile. He knew I had a habit of skipping lunch so whenever he could, he’d bring us the special of the day from a restaurant in the Arcade he frequented often. He hadn’t done this in a while both because it was harder now and also because I was better about bringing my own lunch. We talked for a bit. Not long enough for either of us, but we both had things to do that day. I gave him a hug and told him I’d see him soon. I, of course, did not bring a lunch that day, so I was very grateful when I opened the styrofoam container and saw a pile of spaghetti. He was always taking care of me.